The USS Booker T Washington
by dancemagictv
Summary: Eric Blackburn always thought he had a pretty good understanding of the Bravo team dynamic. But on the USS Booker T. Washington, deep in the dark, cold depths of the ocean, he realizes how very wrong he was. He didn't understand. Not really. This is a Blackburn POV of Sonny's torpedo tube experience in episode 2x13, "Time to Shine."


**This is for SEAL Team Week, Day 3, which had the prompts Sonny or whump.**

**While it technically fits both prompts, it's really just a Blackburn POV for episode 2x13, "Time to Shine."**

**I wanted to try something different, so I let myself watch the episode through once, making some notes along the way, and then I just wrote and this is what came out.**

* * *

Eric Blackburn always thought he had a pretty good understanding of the Bravo team dynamic.

But on the USS Booker T. Washington, deep in the dark, cold depths of the ocean, he realizes how very wrong he was.

He didn't understand. Not really.

And he probably never truly will.

#####

From the beginning, Eric knew he wanted to be an officer.

He has great respect for enlisted sailors, but that's not the path he ever envisioned for himself. He saw the officer ranks as the place he felt he could do the most good – have the biggest impact. For his country but also for his young, growing family.

He's proud of the path his career has taken, and working with the men of Bravo team has been the highlight of his career. Over the years he's watched members come and go – some because of tragedy, some because of time, and some because it wasn't a good fit or didn't work out for one reason or another.

The team dynamic changes a bit with every change, but this group of six men – Hayes, Perry, Quinn, Sawyer, Reynolds and Spenser – is without a doubt the strongest he's seen Bravo run.

He can admit to having some serious concerns initially. When Spenser was brought in, everyone was raw and grieving the loss of Nate Massey, and Brock was still relatively new to the team and finding his footing. The balance felt fragile, like one wrong step could destroy what they'd been building. Their growing pains tried his patience daily – still do, frankly – but he feels privileged to have watched their development over the last year.

Somehow, things clicked. And once they did, these men became a force to be reckoned with.

There's an exceedingly strong bond there. He sees it firsthand nearly every day. It's true of most of the teams – the ones that work well, anyway – but there's still something special about Bravo.

It sounds cheesy and cliché, but he truly has watched them form their own kind of family. Not some saccharine sweet Brady Bunch family, but something much more real. Where life-long bonds are forged not only through shared achievements and respect and time well spent, but also through clashing personalities and power dynamics and hurt egos. The kind of relationships that work because they're hard and messy and take effort. They fight and they irritate the hell out of each other, and that's because they care so deeply.

Even though he sometimes wishes for it, Eric's not delusional enough to think they see him as a part of that family. He knows he isn't.

He considers these men to be close friends, with whom he shares true, genuine relationships outside of work – nights at the Bulkhead and children's birthday parties and the occasional lazy Sunday catching a game on TV.

But it isn't the same as what the six of them share together.

Even when it's done in fun, he's heard enough officer jabs thrown around to know they'll never really see him as one of their own.

And they shouldn't.

Being an officer requires that a certain amount of distance be placed between him and the sailors he commands. Keeping that professional boundary with these men he truly cares about has been a tough balance over the years, and it only continues to get harder.

#####

Eric doesn't get the chance to be on site and in the thick of things much anymore, so when the North Korea reconnaissance mission comes up, it's an exciting opportunity to jump into the action. This is an important op, and the politics of it - both within the Navy and without - make his role important.

There are delicate sensitivities connected to being on the sub, in some of the most dangerous waters in the world. That's why Eric came along, to act as a go between for his men on site, those back in Virginia and with command on the vessel.

He's feeling accomplished for a job well done when Jason shows up with Master Chief Wilke in the control room following the power surge. The unexpected arrival puts Eric immediately on alert. It's unsettling to hear that Quinn is temporarily stuck in the torpedo tube. But the concern that's evident in Jason's eyes as they dart his way seems a bit too extreme for the level of seriousness related to the situation. And Eric knows from experience that if he doesn't reign Jason in before he really gets going, things are only going to escalate.

He's well aware of Sonny's phobias. Hell, as someone who isn't the least bit claustrophobic, Eric's skin crawls thinking about the cramped, cold quarters Sonny's found himself trapped in. So he understands the unease and is very familiar with Jason's protective streak.

But as Captain Edwards says, it's not life-threatening.

And Eric believes with 100% conviction that holding tight and waiting it out is the right call.

That's still true some time later, when word comes down to the torpedo room that the captain doesn't want them to cut the tube. Combat readiness is an understandable concern for the commanding officer who's been charged with the heavy task of keeping the vessel safe in hostile waters.

Even so, as the guys' frustration mounts, so does Eric's. He wants to get Sonny out too, and he wants to exfil to the Ang Paggising, and call this a successful op.

But his _job_ is to make sure they do that the right way. That's why he's here and that's what he's going to do. Even if it pisses Jason off.

#####

Everything changes when water starts leaking into the tube. It's not a sudden emergency, but a gradual, growing dread that starts to take hold. Eric forces himself to remain calm and measured when he makes his case to the Captain, and he knows it was the right approach when he gets the okay to move forward with cutting Sonny out.

But then the North Korean sub shows up on sonar. And everything changes.

That's the point when he starts to lose his conviction. He continues to temper Jason, but it's getting harder as his own concern builds.

Because in his mind, things start to shift from the vague, uncomfortable idea of one of his men being stuck in that tube, unable to get out, to _Sonny_ being stuck in there, in real danger of not making it out alive.

"The hardest decision an officer can make is to sacrifice a life to preserve the greater good."

The captain's words are true. And they're words Eric thinks about every day. It's a sentiment he's made sure to ingrain as deeply as possible, so that if the day comes where he has to make that hardest decision, he'll be prepared.

Unfortunately, that day may be today.

Rule books and structure and command systems and all those things that are meant to lead to the right choice are imperative in their line of work, to ensure that the correct path is chosen, no matter how hard it may be.

When Jason says he understands in response to the Captain's assertion that emotion clouds judgement, Eric's heart goes to war with his head. He _knows_ it's true, but he also knows that emotion is one of Jason's greatest strengths. It's precisely that deep emotional connection to the men he would willingly give his life for that has kept them all alive to this point, through some of the worst situations imaginable. The ever-present determination and drive to make sure his team is alright is what makes Jason Hayes extraordinary.

But Jason says he understands. It's stoic, and a bit defiant, but he agrees and walks away, and Eric has to take a moment to try to regain some of his own composure.

He knows Jason isn't giving up, that he and his guys are going to continue to work through every possible scenario that could get Sonny out alive. And Eric will do the same.

But he also steels himself, because he has to. Continuing to agree that they can't just recklessly cut into the tube is probably the hardest thing Eric's ever done. Not just in his career, but in his life. Because he knows he may be sentencing Sonny to death.

#####

When they go ultraquiet, and the lights blink out and the hum fades away, that's when Eric knows it's over. That they're out of time and there isn't going to be a last minute miracle.

He's reluctant to do so - not sure if he'll be welcome - but he ultimately joins Jason, Ray and Clay in the torpedo room.

He's never seen three people look so utterly defeated. There's no way of fixing this, and the painful acceptance of that is etched across their faces and evident in their hunched shoulders and the tense unease radiating from their bodies.

For the first time, Eric hears the harsh, desperate pants coming from Sonny through the electric tin of the comms, and it sucks the breath straight out of his own chest.

There may be 155 souls on board the sub, and there may be millions more who would be affected if they were to be discovered.

But there's _one_ soul on the other side of that steel curve that Eric has a personal relationship with. And that Jason, Ray and Clay have such a deep love for that their heartbreak is palpable and suffocating.

And that means none of the other numbers matter.

Eric's eyes cautiously meet Ray's. He sees resignation in them, not accusation. But he also sees determination. To be strong for Sonny in these final minutes. And to be strong for Jason in the ones that will come after. Because that's who Ray Perry is, recognizing even through his own disbelief and heartache that his best friend is already taking the blame for what's happening, swallowed by the guilt.

Sonny himself tries to relieve Jason of that guilt, and it feels like a fist is gripping Eric's insides to hear it. That's not how he should spend his last moments.

Sonny's the joker, the cut up. And he can be annoying as all hell. But he has a heart that's too big for his chest, and hearing his cries as he says goodbye to his brothers is gut wrenching. Because he clearly knows it's the end and he's determined to make sure his friends understand the depth of his feelings for them.

Ray looks agonized as Sonny shares his love for Jameelah and RJ, and he weeps as Sonny thanks him and Naima for welcoming him into their family.

The shell shocked stare in Clay's eyes as he tries to say his goodbye isn't what tightens Eric's throat. It's the way the younger man never loses contact with the metal of the tube, gripping the handle or leaning against it. It's as if he wants to crawl inside, to be as near to his friend as he possibly can be in the time they have left. The fact that Sonny is _so_ close but just barely out of reach makes his fate seem particularly cruel.

Sonny sobs as he comforts Clay, and they don't need more words because they already know.

Because they're true _family_, in every sense of the word – Sonny and the three men grieving in this room and the two back in Virginia who have been cheated out of the opportunity to say goodbye. Trent and Brock should be here, not Eric. And he would give anything in this moment to trade places with them.

The thick and heavy emotion is overwhelming in the small space and he feels like he's intruding. But he knows he needs to bear witness to what's happening. To be here when it's over, for the three who remain.

Eric's own tears come when Sonny says it's time to shine. It's a phrase he's heard so many times before, and now it feels like all of those utterances were leading to this moment all along. To guide this man who's finally being forced to face one of his greatest fears bravely to his own death.

Eric plants the voice deeply into his mind and makes it take root, knowing it's the last time he'll hear it.

#####

Once Sonny goes quiet, the wheels inevitably start turning again, none of them willing to give up until they know with certainty that it's over. Eric recognizes the tone that Jason gets when he's working a problem, on the verge of solving it, and it gives him a small amount of hope.

What he comes up with is a brilliant plan, and it proves just how good Jason is under pressure, why he carries the mantle of Bravo 1.

The next few minutes are both the longest and shortest of Eric's life as they make a last ditch effort to save their friend.

Convincing Edwards to hear them out.

Directing Havoc to move the trawler away.

Watching the sonar screen, knowing Sonny only has one minute of air left.

Then they're sprinting back to the torpedo room as Petty Officer Takahashi finally starts cutting into the tube.

Eric knows too much time has passed, but he still has hope that Sonny will come out breathing. That they miscalculated the time somehow and he'll be red-faced, and ornery, and pissed that they let things get so close, determined to make sure they never hear the end of it.

But it's immediately clear there was no time miscalculation.

Because he comes out in a flooding deluge of water. Ice cold and pale and water logged, and frighteningly limp and still.

_Dead._

No one is ready to give up. Losing him now would be even crueler than not getting him out at all.

They roughly settle him on the floor and Eric helps to clear his wetsuit for the defibrillator pads, exposing the familiar harsh, jagged scar that crawls across his stomach. It's proof that Sonny's a stubborn son of a bitch and a fighter. He's come through dire situations before. Come back from _death_ before.

He can do it again.

"Come on, Sonny."

Eric silently joins Jason's mantra in his own mind, willing the Texan's heart to start, for him to take a breath. To come back to them.

Each of the four shocks feels like it reverberates through his own body, and he's never felt a rush of desperation more strongly than he does in this very moment.

Finally, _finally_, Sonny comes back to them with a surge of sea water, gulping for breath, eyes wild and panicked. He's quickly moved to a spine board, and Jason insists on Bravo being the ones to carry him to the wardroom, including Eric in that without question or hesitation.

Sonny's painful gasps for life-giving oxygen as they take him away from the tube is the sound that will stick with Eric, replacing those words he thought he would never hear again.

#####

The next several minutes are chaotic. Eric returns to control to communicate with everyone back at home, the relief that's evident in their voices hammering home to him how close they came.

He returns to the wardroom, but stops just outside. The adrenaline crash has left him shaking, and he takes a moment to lean over with his hands on his knees so he can simply breathe.

He watches through the entryway as Jason, Ray and Clay sit vigil next to Sonny, who is laid out on the table. They're talking to him quietly and they look as shaken as Eric feels.

Seeing them together sends a wave of heat through his body.

The bond these men have is immense, more than Eric ever realized.

The strength and power of it can't be conveyed through a radio, so he didn't know.

But being here with them, he starts to understand. These men go out and risk their lives every day for their country and their brothers and they have one powerful thing to lean on – _each other_.

Eric knows he'll never really grasp what that's like. He won't be a true part of it or know how it feels.

But that doesn't diminish his own bond with them. Their importance in his life and his in theirs.

His _care_ for them.

So he's going to do the only thing he can do right now:

His job.

He's going to get them to exfil and off of this damn sub.

And then he's going to take them home.


End file.
